


Empty

by Wolfy22Zsasz



Series: Songspiration [7]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 14:13:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13660662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wolfy22Zsasz/pseuds/Wolfy22Zsasz
Summary: Victor examines his feelings and vocabulary





	Empty

Victor stares down at the trickle of liquor remaining at the bottom his glass. The bar is busy on a Friday night but the stools on either side of him remain empty, no one interrupting his solitude. Maybe they sensed the turbulent emotions inside him. Or more likely it was just because of who he was. Victor Zsasz. 

His days had become so empty. There were occasionally day jobs, but most of his work happened at night. Everything in his life was empty now. His apartment was empty. The hours were empty. He was empty. Even more empty than he always had been. The only life in his life were the lives he took. 

Victor stands to leave and catches a glimpse of red at the other end of the bar. His head snaps to follow the blazing hair, his body turning until he focuses on the face. Not her. Not HER. He curses himself for the reaction. It was stupid. Why did he care? Why did he care that she was gone? He had basically told her to leave. And yet... The emptiness. She had left but she had left behind something. A void. 

Half of the closet was empty. The bookshelves were no longer brimming with stories of fantasy, adventure, and romance. The fridge was bare, the trash filled with discarded take-out. And Victor... Victor was what?

The night she left...she'd said it again. It wasn't the first time. He'd been seeing her for six months. She had moved in after three. She'd told him she loved him exactly three times. He'd said it back...none. They were laying in bed, sated and a little sweaty. She had her head on his chest, looking up at him. And she'd said it the fourth time. I love you Victor. And he had stared back at her and said nothing. That had been what broke her. She didn't flip out or go into hysterics. She wasn't like that. She just got sad eyes as she asked,

"You don't love me, do you." More of a statement than a question. 

Victor had looked away from her, but stayed silent. 

"Do you love me?" She asked with a little force behind each word. 

"No." Victor hadn't looked at her. He found he couldn't bring himself to look at her as he said it. 

She had rolled away from him and cried. Her body shook silently as she curled into herself. Eventually she stilled. 

"Maybe you should go." Victor found himself saying unexpectedly. 

And so she did. 

 

Everything you touch dies. That's what he told himself. He had killed her. He might not have taken her life...but he had taken something from her. Killed some part of her. 

Now he lies in bed alone, staring at the ceiling and the emptiness surrounding him. He hasn't been sleeping. Every time he closes his eyes he sees her. The red hair, firey like her personality. Sparking green eyes. So full of life. He had drained it from her in such a short amount of time. Life was fleeting. 

He wishes he could sleep. She visits him in his dreams. When he's asleep it's like she never left. But he always wakes up alone. 

"Do you love me?"

"No."

 

He admits it. He misses her. He misses her presence in his life. But love? Was it an emotion he could even feel? What was love? It was something people killed for. Something people died for. He would kill for her, but he wouldn't die for her. He was attracted to her. He liked her, which was truly a rare thing. He enjoyed her company. He didn't love her...he was attached to her. He had become accustomed to her presence in his life. 

What is love really though? It's used so broadly in different contexts. Maybe...maybe he did love her. In his own way. Not in the hopelessly romantic sense you saw on TV and in movies. But in a basic sense. The combination of an agreeable personality, sexual attraction...and a... a sense of contentedness. Comfortable. If that could be considered love, then...

 

He found her walking out of the grocery store. She shrieked in surprise when he stepped out of the shadows and into her path. 

"Victor??" The pain of seeing him is evident on her face. 

He stares at her in his intense and serious way. He stares at her and swallows the lump in his throat. 

She knows how to read him. Why is he so uncomfortable? If Victor Zsasz were ever afraid, which he wasn't, she would almost say there was a hint of fear in that hard stare of his. 

"I love you." He says it quickly, short and to the point. 

Her mouth opens and her voice catches in her throat. 

"I love you." He repeats in awe.

The bags fall from her hands and she falls into his arms, tears running down her face. 

"I love you Victor." She whispers.

"I love you too."


End file.
